Domicile

6 years in Dehradun

6 years in Bangalore

4 years in Kuwait

2 years in Bangalore

4 years in Toronto

2 years in Bombay

…and that’s 24

****

“Where are you from?”

I cringe every time I hear that question – not so much for myself, because I personally love the answer. But I feel bad for the person asking the question, because I’m sure the answer they receive is far longer than the one they had bargained for.

As a kid, I used to complain often about moving around (by grade 2, I had attended five different schools. And no, I wasn’t kicked out). Being socially awkward, it took me a long time to get comfortable in my new surroundings and make friends, and it seemed like every time I managed to settle down, it was time to move to a new place again.

Somewhere along the line, things changed. Or I changed. Because the last few times I’ve moved, it’s been out of choice. I spent four amazing years in Toronto, making friendships that I know will outlast me. Yet by the end of college, I was ready to leave and go back to India. Similarly, my two years in Bombay were better than I could have even imagined, but towards the end, I wanted to move to something new. That kid who loved normalcy and comfort and hated change suddenly became the one eagerly packing bags and changing homes every few years.

A while back, I was filling out an application that had a section for ‘domicile’. I had no idea what that meant, and actually had to look it up. Apparently, it means residence. Abode. Home. Dwelling. Etc. Not something I can fill out in the 3-centimeter space that the form provided. It’s definitely not a one-word answer.

Sometimes, I think it still bothers me – not belonging anywhere. Not staying anywhere long enough to become a part of a group of friends that’s closer than family.  Last night, I watched over 40 people take time off from their work day to come home and celebrate mom’s birthday. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it – that feeling of knowing that you’re surrounded by people who would be there for you no matter what. I do have family and friends like that all over the world, but that’s the thing: they’re all over the world. And Facebook and Skype can only do so much (and yes, that includes smartphones).

But it’s a fleeting moment of doubt, because at the end of the day, I have thankfully never regretted my decisions to move till now. I’ve been happy at every place that I’ve called home, regardless of the longitude it was at. And to be fair, two months ago I was with friends in Bombay; two weeks ago with family and friends in Canada; today with my parents in Kuwait, and in another two weeks, with more family and potentially more friends in Bangalore.

Can’t complain J

Besides, from what I've heard:

Home is where the hugs are.

And there are hugs all around!

Ruchi Mittal, officially 24 years old, at home with all the hugs, signing off!

Destination: Montreal

It was a trip initiated by an old friendship, controlled by our wallets, and guided by our stomachs!

We were trying to save money. That’s really where the whole story begins. (Alright, fine. If you want to be technical, it begins when the two of us decided to take a trip down to Montreal, made plans, made bookings, etc etc – but the fun part of the story starts with us trying to cut costs). With one of us flying down from Kuwait to Toronto, and the other from Calgary, I think we could safely say that we were low on funds and wanted Montreal to be a cheap holiday.

In our desperation, we decided to cut costs on the only flexible part of our trip – the accommodation. Following vague recommendations, we booked a three-night stay at…a hotel? Motel? Hostel? Not entirely sure what it was, but definitely closer to the last option. After dragging our luggage across the city, we arrived at a 3-story townhouse filled with beds peeking out from behind curtains. Our request for a private room was initially met with blank stares, but thankfully, a few seconds later, we were shown into a room with two queen-sized beds – and asked to choose one bed and stick to it (I should mention here that one of the beds already had luggage on it, so we weren’t exactly left with that much to choose from). The bathroom was across the room, and was shared between at least 10 other people living on that floor. And while our first night was relatively peaceful and solitary, we didn’t realize at that time that we would soon be joined by a third person (the owner of the luggage) – someone who makes it very difficult for light sleepers such as my friend to, well, sleep.

For the next two days, we explored as much of the city as we could. Our roles were clearly designated – one was the researcher and the other the navigator. Equipped with maps and walking tours, we walked through as many of the streets as our legs allowed, and ate as much as our stomachs allowed (and possibly a bit more).

But this was all well into the future. That first evening, as we dumped our luggage on our bed, I remember there was a moment when we looked at each other, suppressing incredulous stares and the urge to laugh uncontrollably at our situation. I think it was decided at that particular moment – Montreal was going to be a trip to remember!

*****

Enroute to Montreal.

The door-knob of our room. If you pulled it too hard from outside, it would come off. But if you yanked it back in too hard, the one on the inside would fall off!

Realizing (a little late) that we were staying at a place that would obviously not be providing us with toiletries, we decided to go shopping. But being the cheapskates that we were, we were only willing to spend on hand towels (because a full-length one would have been so expensive), and the cheapest most outrageous shampoo we could find: outrageous.

Our favourite bagel place, where we started each morning with cream cheese and nutella.

Mexicans have tacos, Italians have pastas, and apparently Montreal has poutine. Not a big fan, I must admit. 

Notre Dame: a church with the most spectacular light-and-sound show that I have ever seen. A must watch!

Catching up on the last eight years amidst Mojitos and Long Island Iced Teas!

Boustan – the best shawarma place ever!

A view of Montreal city

Jacques Cartier – a street in old Montreal city!

And of course, a special thanks to our transport manager (sounds cooler than chauffeur): for getting us started on the journey!

The Toronto Chapter

Closing Toronto. That was what this trip was supposed to be about.

While I have never regretted my decision to move to India after studying in Canada, every now and then I found myself missing structure in the midst of Indian chaos, missing the snowfall when wading through the monsoons, and missing old friends while trying to make new ones.

So when I decided to visit Canada after a two-year hiatus, it was in part to visit old friends, but largely to wrap up the country once and for all – to assure myself that I had made the right decision by leaving; to find closure; to close Toronto.

And I think I did accomplish that. I realized that some friendships of the past had become just that – friendships of the past. Other relationships that had ended bitterly were given a second chance. And the campus where I spent four years of my life – while still bearing old memories – hardly felt like home without all the familiar faces.

But while I was basking in my closure, life was still moving. I met old friends and acquaintances from different walks of my life, and could feel the beginnings of new friendships. I got a chance to spend time with people who will soon be a part of my family, and to build new relationships. I met friends who have always been there in my past, and will continue to have a solid place in the future. Most importantly, I got to spend three weeks with my brother – something that I now realize I haven’t done in the last 8 years.

This trip was supposed to be about closure. Then again, closure is overrated. At the age of 24, this is hardly the time to be closing chapters in my life (not that I think any particular age is appropriate for that). Nobody said it had to be either or. Beginning life in India doesn’t have to mean ending my time in Canada. I think there might be just enough space for me build relationships in Bangalore and in Canada. With a foot in Kuwait. And another in Dehradun. And of course one in Bombay (let’s ignore the bizarre anatomy for now, shall we?)

I had intended to write that with the end of this trip, I can now officially close the Toronto chapter of my life. But instead, the last few weeks have seen the strengthening of so many bonds, and the creation of so many new ones, that I feel the chapter of Toronto is far from over.

Perhaps – to be continued?